


Call My Name

by angeloscastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeloscastiel/pseuds/angeloscastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a thousand sides to Castiel, a thousand words that can be ascribed to him, but only two matter to Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call My Name

Castiel has always defied description.

Even in Heaven, they threw around words that never quite seemed to fit. _Broken,_ except he always remained so stubbornly _whole_ they gave up calling him broken. _Rebellious_ , except he’d never actually fallen, never torn his grace from his body in a violent eruption of light and power like Anna had, even though the angels had stared down at Earth after her with hushed whispers of ‘he’ll be next’ and ‘keep an eye on Castiel.’ He’d surprised them with his loyalty to Heaven, but he could never be called a _true servant_ , not even before he’d lead a garrison of angels into Hell to rescue Dean Winchester.

He was a wild card, they decided, and for the angels that was enough.

To the demons in Pontiac, Illinois, he was the end _._ To Pamela Barnes, he was blindness. To Crowley, he was a business partner. He was a brother, a hammer, a friend, a betrayer, a spy, a _son of a bitch_ , a healer, a killer, a traveller, a repairer, a baby in a trenchcoat, a host, a god. An angel, but a poor example of one. Of a Lord who had abandoned Heaven and left his sons to destroy the earth he created.

Castiel carries a thousand names and a thousand titles with him, but to Dean Winchester he’s just Cas. Over the last few months, as this thing between them has finally grown too big to be left unacknowledged, as they slowly, tentatively explore the depth and wonder and unwordly magic of their _profound bond,_ Dean has struggled to describe him. He hates the word _boyfriend._ “Makes us sound like high schoolers, Sammy,” he’d barked at his brother when Sam had first mentioned it. _Partner_ is too businesslike. _Lover_ sounds awkward. So he’s just Cas, Cas who has worn the same trenchcoat for five years and doesn’t understand movie references and likes burgers and takes everything literally and looks at him with that quizzical look and whose smile is small and shy and full of sincerity, and that’s exactly how Dean likes him.

But then there’s _Castiel,_ and Castiel is ancient and forever, who reflects millenia in his earnest blue eyes and whispers Enochian when he thinks nobody’s around and can name every star in the sky, who descended into hell to raise Dean, who has commanded the heavenly host, fought demons, trapped archangels and whose hands have the power to smite and to heal in equal measure.

_Cas_ is for when Dean yells across the bunker for him, to tack onto the end of sentences, as a prompt, as a panicked shout, as a greeting. _Cas_ is for the little moments in their lives and conversation and introductions to friends. _Cas_ is for the man, the _you’re my family,_ the _I need you._

_Castiel_ is for worship and wonder, in the silence and the darkness when they’re the only two people in the universe. It’s a whisper, an exhaled breath, the brush of gentle fingers against skin and green eyes locked onto blue and the shadowy outline of wings silhouetted on moonlight-drenched walls. It’s for when not only their bodies are intertwined but their very essences of being, soul and grace flowing together like oil and water. _Castiel_ is sacred but Dean does not profane his holy shrine with his hand because he is the Righteous Man and his touch does not corrupt.

Castiel has a thousand names for Dean in a thousand different languages, names which often defy translation so they turn into secrets, endless proclamations of love whispered into Dean’s ear that would make him blush and duck away and protest if they had been in English, but they aren’t and he doesn’t, so Castiel talks for hours in softly spoken Enochian, Latin, Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek while Dean falls asleep to the sound of his voice.

Castiel’s favourite name for Dean is _amandus._ He translates it for him – _to be loved_ – and Dean chuckles and scolds Cas for being a sap, but he’s grinning from ear to ear and Castiel whispers it to him that night and learns that it’s Dean’s favourite as well. Sammy tries to explain the meaning of the gerundive – he’s learning Latin, of course he is – and Dean’s still not entirely sure what a verbal adjective is but the next night he whispers to Cas _mihi amandus es_ and Cas smiles that shy little smile and kisses him, and they don’t talk for a while after that.

It’s not until many years later that Dean realises he’s settled on one descriptor for Castiel that he uses time and time again, more than _partner_ or _lover_ or _boyfriend_ or _angel_ or _husband_ or _love_ or _baby_ (he tried that once and immediately apologised to both Cas and the Impala) or _you son of a bitch_ or even _Castiel._

_My Cas._

_My Cas_ is for introductions to family and friends and strangers, and smiles across the dinner table, and vows at altars, and cuddling on the couch and stolen kisses in the supermarket and parent-teacher interviews and threatening daughters’ boyfriends and wrinkled hands entwined across armchairs and exhaled breaths in the dark.


End file.
